


Minor Adjustments

by ktbl



Series: Wabi-Sabi [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Genji Shimada, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Cyborgs, F/M, Fall of Blackwatch, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gency, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Overwatch Uprising, Pre-Fall of Overwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26231458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktbl/pseuds/ktbl
Summary: Angela Ziegler has been many things, but she's never been the most emotionally literate person. She struggles in negotiating a series of changes to her friendship with Genji Shimada, brought on by the publicizing and dissolution of Blackwatch. Genji believes everything is under control until he suddenly has his own adjustments to make, and they have nothing to do with his cybernetics.
Relationships: Genji Shimada/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Series: Wabi-Sabi [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791523
Comments: 17
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

The weeks following the Venice Incident shrouded all of Overwatch in quiet anxiety. That was how it became known, capital letters spoken with hushed dismay or loud frustration. The normally bright halls and cheerful voices and sounds of the busy Swiss headquarters took a turn for the darker and quieter. Tension coiled its way through the building and its inhabitants. The investigations and debriefings ranged from the highest points - Amari and Morrison, Lacroix and Reyes - down to the agents and even some of the supply techs and analysts. Who had known the depths of what Blackwatch was doing? Who knew what Reyes had been planning to do to Bartalotti, or who had suspected?

All of the agents on Reyes’ mission found themselves suspended, and it wasn’t long until one sacrifice was made. Dr. O’Deorain parted ways with Overwatch, terminated or offered an exquisite severance package depending on who was gossiping and how they felt about the geneticist. Few people were as happy to see her leave as Dr. Angela Ziegler.

“She was brilliant,” pointed out Shimada Genji one afternoon after the incident, sitting in a chair in her office. “She was an immense asset to your research team.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of the light sweatshirt he wore, needing something to occupy them. It covered much of the bulky cybernetic connections over his chest, and made him a little less eye-catching to most of the facility’s people. Angela nevertheless found him a pleasant distraction, despite the intimidating black and red color scheme, red eyes, and the tendency to be antisocial. He had interesting perspectives, new and different ones that she appreciated. Across her desk, Angela gave him an exasperated look and dipped her chin down, meeting his eyes with skepticism.

“She had the ethics of a viper,” the head of medical research replied sharply, “and the compassion of a scorpion.” As much as she liked spending time with him, he still had the ability to needle her, and often did. She didn’t know if it was intentional, or merely a side effect of the lifestyle he’d lived. Angela pulled up a holoprojection on her desk, iterations of DNA strands, using her fingers to gesture at it and zoom in on a segment. “Every time I read her reports I felt as if I needed to go into a decontamination shower or scrub myself down like I was entering surgery. All of it so slickly vicious, genetic manipulation that’s on par with...” She trailed off, snapping her mouth shut. “It’s horrific, is what it is. Reprehensible. Unethical doesn’t even begin to capture the scope of her machinations. You didn’t see the requests for research subjects she would file, Genji! It was as if nothing mattered to her, only getting what she wanted, only the next advancement, no matter the cost.”

He remained silent, arching an eyebrow, and pointedly looked down at his cybernetic limbs. He looked back at Angela, and the sudden anguished look on her face as she realized what she’d said - and who she’d said it to.

“Only getting what she wanted, no matter the cost, was so terrible?”

“You’re different,” she said firmly, regaining her composure. “Your brother tried to kill you. You wanted to walk again. And now you walk - you do so much more than walk. You’re such an amazing person, Genji. You can’t compare yourself to her.”

“I am less than she was. I am merely a weapon for Blackwatch. For Overwatch,” he countered, rising up off the chair. “And now I am suspended while they run their inquiry on Reyes and all of us who were part of that mess in Venice. I am a weapon that will go rusty with disuse while _they_ ,” and his organic hand gestured around them, as if to the offices down the hall where the commanders and captains worked, “decide what to do with me.”

“You aren’t Moira,” Angela responded, her eyes scanning the display, and then beyond it, distracted by her thoughts. “You aren’t looking for orphans, for homeless people, to experiment on. The offers she made me to look the other way, let alone to _sanction_ her research…!” She trailed off, swiping at the three-dimensional display in front of her, and then gestured as if crumpling it up and throwing it away. The display vanished, leaving only the two of them.

“She was - is - a brilliant scientist,” Genji pointed out. “Her biotic orbs helped save my life, McCree’s life, Reyes’ life. More than once.”

“It doesn’t mean I have to like her, or what she’s done, or what she did to develop it. The ends do not justify the means!” She reached up and brushed loose hairs out of her face, adjusted her glasses slightly. “I just… I cannot condone what she does, how she does it. It goes against everything I was ever taught about medical ethics.”

He remained silent, and merely raised a brow.

“If you like her so much, Genji, why don’t you go join her wherever she’s gone now?” Angela dropped onto her own chair, sounding like a petulant preteen. Her chair rolled back towards the window, giving her a view of the courtyard below and the bright blue sky above, and she turned to look at the view. “Overwatch is better than Moira O’Deorain. You belong here, with us. Dismantling the Shimada - that will make the world a better place. Here, with us, where you can help people who can’t help themselves. Heal the pain from the Omnic Crisis, make this a world worth living. It’s a world worth fighting for. You can do it here, Genji, with Jack and Reinhardt and Torbjörn and Dr. Liao and me.”

She turned from the window to meet his eyes, but he was already gone.

When a week passed without seeing him, Angela cornered Reyes to find out where he’d gone. Due for systems checks, she said blithely, but the American didn’t seem inclined to believe it. He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“If he checks in with me, I’ll tell him to get in touch with you.”

“Thank you, Gabe,” she replied. “He doesn’t take care of himself half as well as he ought to.”

Reyes raised an eyebrow. “As well as he ought to, or as well as you think he should? You’ve got some pretty high standards, Doc, and they’re hard to meet for most of us.”

“It’s not that unreasonable.” Angela crossed her arms. “Jesse won’t stop smoking no matter how much I ask, and I don’t care what they did to you and Jack in that super soldier program, you both push your bodies too much. Eventually something’s going to give, and I don’t want you hurting yourselves.”

“Some days I forget you’re twenty years my junior, the way you issue orders.”

“I am the Head of Medical Research for Overwatch,” the blonde said pointedly. “And it doesn’t matter how old I am when I’m right.”

“I can see why they made you head of surgery,” Reyes replied, amused. “You’ve got a surgeon’s god complex all right. If I see him, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

It was another week before she saw Genji again in more than passing; any time she saw his too-recognizable figure, or the tail ends of the dangling neural cables, he was always heading the opposite direction from her. She had given up on Gabe actually passing along the message, doubting Genji would want to deal with her further. She was finishing up her work for the day, and a rap on the door shook her from her thoughts. She looked up to see the cyborg in her doorway, his right hand hanging almost awkwardly loose at his side.

“Can I help you, Genji?” Her voice sounded frosty even to her own ears, and she watched him closely. He seemed to want to back away, something in the set of his shoulders and the look on his face - what she could see around the faceplate, anyway - unsure of his welcome.

“I was wondering if you would take a look at my hand. It isn’t responding as well as I thought it should.”

“We’ll need to go into one of the exam rooms,” she answered, rising from her chair. “They have better lighting, and your systems are delicate. I’ll get the tools and meet you down there?”

“I can walk with you,” he offered carefully, flexing his organic hand. “We could even do it in the workshop-“

“Not with something as important as this,” Angela replied, taking the peace offering and making one of her own. She looked sidelong at him, lips bowing up in a gentle curve. “You can come along, then, and tell me what happened and what the symptoms are. I don’t want anything to get in there that oughtn’t be, but the more information I have, the quicker I can make the repair so you can get on with your night.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d still be here,” he admitted, falling into step beside her. His tone made her think he had hoped she wouldn’t be. “It’s a Friday night. Surely…?”

“I would be doing what? I don’t do bars much, you know that, and the late-night cafes and such aren’t of much interest. My other choice is going home to some half-dead plants and watching old movies and eating whatever I can feign as a meal from my refrigerator.” She let the smile flicker on her face again. “My work is my life. It’s a miracle I even make it home some nights.”

“I am surprised you don’t live on base.” His voice was soft as they walked down to the end of the hall, for her ears alone. She pressed the elevator button to bring them down to the level the cyberneticists worked on, where the complex tools for managing Genji’s mechanical body were housed.

“I’ve thought about it, but I like to have the opportunity to keep my private life, well, private. Yes, I know, half of Overwatch has known me since I was a teenager - but I’d like to at least pretend I have a life!”

“You know,” Genji pointed out, “I’ve never actually seen your apartment.”

“There isn’t much to see, but you’re welcome to come over some time if you’d like.” She paused, as if realizing what she’d said. “Unless you have an aversion to half-dead plants.”

“A doctor, unable to keep plants alive?”

“I far prefer things with a cardiovascular system, if you must know. Most of the time my patients can tell me what the problem is. Plants are… remarkably opaque when they’re unwell. Too much water, too little water, too much sun or not enough, the wrong soil…” She trailed off. _Stop babbling. He isn’t here for this._

“We had a gardener who managed the flowers at Hanamura. I always loved the cherry trees, and the maple trees. Beautiful, but fleeting, and far stronger than they let on. I would always look at the blooms and the leaves and think about how delicate, how fleeting, they were. But the trees were always hardy, coming back more beautiful year after year, no matter how rough things had been before.” He looked at her. “There can be surprising strength behind delicate things, as long as you take are of them.”

“I wish I had a gardener. Only hardy, resilient plants for me,” she said. There might have been a drop in his shoulders, a sigh that escaped his mouth. Or maybe that was just one of the pieces of machinery that made up his body. They stepped out of the elevator and it was a few moment’s work to nip into one lab, pick up the tools, and return to the elevator.

Not long after, she settled down on a stool, Genji perching on an exam table in front of her. The exam room smelled like antiseptic and disinfectant, the lights intense and not at all flattering for either of them. She rolled the stool towards him, setting the equipment out on the exam table beside him. Their knees brushed against each other and she caught her breath, exhaling slowly. She carefully took his mechanical hand in hers, looking over it, and then froze.

“Are you - how do I say this without being mocked with innuendo.” She winked at him. “Are you fully loaded?”

He laughed once, briefly - it was a short sharp sound more akin to a bark. “There are no shuriken,” he said with a hint of a smile on his face; she could tell by the crinkles near his eyes.

“Excellent. I had a brief moment of fear that I would end up with three of them jamming into me when I checked this.” She chuckled, and professionally went over the hand in front of her with the tiny instruments required. She painstakingly checked the connections, adjusting screws and connectors, cleaning spaces and ensuring the mechanisms functioned properly. They spoke of inconsequential things, enough to keep the silence from being overwhelming but not enough to distract Angela from her work. His proximity was doing it anyway, and the maintenance took longer than it should have if any of the cyberneticists had done it. Knees touching, the occasional check for sensitivity between his organic hand and his mechanical one, his periodic attempts to elicit a laugh - all of it far too unprofessional, but far too pleasant, the rough edges between them wearing smooth and easy again.

When she finished, she cupped his hand in hers, perhaps a moment too long. She ran her fingers along the back of his hand, along the depressions for the shuriken mechanisms, the armored backs of the phalanges. He let his hand rest, pliable and easy, in her own, as she rotated it so it sat palm-upward. Angela ran her fingers along the palm, the underside of his fingers, the wrist, alternating firm and delicate brushes against the synthetic skin and the armored pieces.

“How does it feel?”

“Less painful,” he admitted bluntly, “and as if the nerve sensitivity has increased.” He didn’t move the hand for a few seconds, and then flexed the fingers and rotated it, brushing his own fingertips across the back of her hand.

“Good,” she replied, her voice catching. She cleared her throat. “Has it fixed the problem?”

“I think so. If I find it happens again, I will ask you to check on it.”

“Any more of these visits and I will have to keep this repair equipment in my office.” Angela pulled her hand away, hoping that he hadn’t seen the flush she was certain she felt high in her cheeks.

“You’ll have time to get it if you need it. Blackwatch has-“ Genji caught himself, looked down at his hand, then across to her face. “We have some work to do soon.”

“I see.” Her voice didn’t seem to change much, but he was certain he saw her jaw muscles tighten, her throat bob as she swallowed. “Should I do a more thorough check, then?”

“This was the only problem that needed your particular touch. I will come back when we return and you can make sure,” he offered her carefully, “everything is in working order. No problems.”

“You’d better,” she said to him, meeting his eyes and poking him once in the chest with a finger in a surprising motion. “I worry.”

“You don’t need to. I always make it back.” He grinned again. She could see it in his eyes, despite the faceplate.

“You are too stubborn not to.” She rose and put the tools away carefully in their box, brushing against him as she did. “That does explain why Jesse has been avoiding making plans with me this weekend. At least you’re being direct with me.” She blew out a breath with annoyance. “He’s just being secretive. He knows it’s endlessly frustrating. I think he likes annoying me, to be honest.”

“I probably should not have told you, but you deserve to know.” They both knew that he would be under strict orders not to say a word about the Blackwatch operation: she was head of medical research, not anything that ever dealt with Blackwatch, or active missions.

“And I appreciate it.” She closed the case and turned back to him. “I need to bring this back down, and-“

A soft chime interrupted them. Genji looked almost guilty as he reached into the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled out his comm unit. His expression was hard to read as he looked at it, and slid it back into his pocket.

“Time to go.”

“Playing it a little close, weren’t you?” She raised an eyebrow, looking at him with studied neutrality, the corner of her mouth finally twitching into a frown she couldn’t hide. “Reyes wouldn’t be happy if you were late because you missed some maintenance before an operation. As minor as it was.”

“It was important, to be certain things were as they should be, before I left.” His words were careful, and he met her eyes as he slid off the exam table, red eyes burning brightly as they met hers. “I needed to be certain that there was nothing… out of place.”

“You’re in fine working order.” She deliberately misunderstood him as she lifted the case and opened the door. She heard his exhalation, the snort of annoyance behind the mask.

“When I return, perhaps you could show me those half-dead plants of yours?”

She looked at him incredulously over her shoulder and choked off a laugh.“Since you asked so nicely, how could I say no?” There was a glint in his eyes, a hint of that mischievous youth he’d been only a few years before, and she found it abruptly very difficult to remain as professional as she should be. “Should I make plans? How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know,” he replied bluntly. “We are…” He caught himself, gaze flicking away from her. “We are going for the Shimada.”

“I know how much this means to you,” she said after a few moments of silence, unsure how she wanted to reply. She hated the violence, but knew how much this meant - this, of all things - meant to him. She would never understand his commitment to violence, to the eradication of what had been his family. Jealousy coursed through her for a moment at the fact that he even _had_ kin, and she closed her eyes for a moment, forcing it all down. “May you find what you’re looking for.” She leaned up, impulsively, and kissed the side of his metal faceplate. “Good luck, Genji.”

She was proud she manage to keep an even pace as she fled down the hall. She didn’t look back once, her eyes squarely on the bright shining metal of the elevator doors as they opened to swallow her in her embarrassment. She considered it a pithy reward that the shining metal let her see Genji, still standing by the door to the exam room, reaching a hand up slowly towards his mask.


	2. two

He remembered the look on her face as she closed the distance between them, the way her lashes rested against her face as she closed her eyes, the look of her as she kissed the cold metal of his faceplate. He remembered it as he sat silently in the ORCA on the flight to Japan, as he sat on surveillance for two nights, watching the movements of the Shimada retainers, as he cut down those retainers the third night, men he’d known and ones new to him. He wondered if she would do it again, as he waited with McCree in the office as Reyes pulled a safe from a wall, packed tablets and data cores into a secured bag. If something might happen that she would do it again, if she knew he was leaving on a mission. As they bolted back into the ORCA and buckled in, he thought about how much better it would be without the faceplate.

“We’ve got what we came for,” Gabriel said with satisfaction, patting the bag between his feet. “We’ve got a lot of what we need to take the Shimada down - properly. Don’t know how Jack’ll explain how we got it, but we have it.” He snorted. “Hell, if he even has to explain it. But they’re going down.”

“So you’re goin’ straight into more schemin’, then?” Jesse snorted, leaning back and pulling his hat brim down over his eyes. “I’m takin’ a couple days off, after this. Maybe hop on a plane and go down somewhere nice, drinks and beaches and pretty girls. Hear that some of those French beaches look pretty nice.”

“Oh, they are.” Gabriel grinned. “But I’m pretty sure this is going to keep me busy. Ana and Jack are keeping a close eye on Blackwatch, and we’re going to want to get this to the analysts as soon as we can. Going to be a lot of code monkeys who want their eyes on this.”

Jesse snorted. “What about you, Genji? We get back, what’re you up to? Wanna come to France? Hear some of those beaches do not require the ladies to be very covered up.”

“I have no plans,” he said carefully, as composed as he could manage. “And I am not interested in nude beaches.” He had no idea what he would do - especially if the Shimada would be undone with this. What he had been looking for, he’d found; the push he’d had was gone. For now, at least. “Dr. Ziegler has extended a dinner invitation to me, so I may take her up on that.”

“No shit,” Jesse and Gabriel said simultaneously, in a way that made the hairs on the back of Genji’s neck rise.

“You’re looking at me,” Genji said, narrowing his eyes. “I cannot decide if it’s the look of older brothers about to threaten me for looking at their sisters, or partners in crime ready to offer advice. I have significant experience with both.”

“We can be both,” Gabe said with a grin, leaning back. “We’ve known her for a decade. We can be both.”

“Somehow,” Genji said dryly, “that is not encouraging.”

It was late when they arrived in Switzerland, the craft landing in the depths of night. Few lights were on in the facility, and Strike Commander Morrison was already waiting for them in the landing bay.

“Good work,” he said to the Blackwatch agents as they disembarked. “But we’ve got a problem.”

“You’re welcome, and what happened?” Gabe tossed the padded bag towards Jack, who caught it with one hand.

“Someone figured it out,” Morrison said, voice loud in the general quiet of the bay. “They realized it was Blackwatch. We’ve already received a formal complaint from the Japanese government about the activities of Blackwatch, unsanctioned and unauthorized, within their borders.” Morrison’s eyes flickered over Jesse and Genji. “You’re all off for the rest of the week. Shimada, Dr. Ziegler heard you were coming back and is waiting for you. Something about the last-minute maintenance and how it held up. Debrief with Captain Amari, and then you’re to see her immediately before you’re off-duty.”

There were winks from Gabriel and Jesse alike, and Genji kept up a stony expression as he walked into the base. He recounted the mission dispassionately to Captain Amari and the camera in the room alike. It took longer than the casual words from the Strike Commander had indicated; she wanted every element in great detail. When he was finally freed from her needling inquiries, he made his way to Angela’s office. A thin beam of light still shone under her door, and he rapped twice on the door with his knuckles before stepping in, hoping he hadn’t interrupted anything.

She’d fallen asleep in her chair, head pillowed on her hands. Her breathing was slow and even, and she looked almost funny, half her face crushed flat, glasses askew. He crouched down silently and watched for the telltale flutter of opening lashes, the shift in breathing or eye movement that would show her waking up.

There was none. She was simply that exhausted.

Genji warred with himself. If he let her stay sleeping like that, she would wake up with an aching neck and back, and he would blame himself for her discomfort. He could have woken her up - but she needed her sleep, and if he woke her, she’d refuse to sleep again. There was only one thing for it. He moved to her chair, and picked her up as delicately as he could manage, tipping her into him so she wouldn’t fall. She made a soft sleepy noise and turned her head into the bare skin of his chest. He froze at the press of her skin against his, the warmth of her breath on him. He shifted his hold on her as she turned more into him, nose pressed tight against his pectoral as he moved her to the small couch in her office. He settled her down on it carefully. She made another soft sound, as he plucked her glasses off her face, turning her head into the back of the cushions. He tugged the thin blanket off the back of the couch and spread it over her, putting her glasses on her desk. He waited until her breathing eased, and perhaps a little longer than that - longer than he had any right to - before he turned her light off, and slipped back out.

“I don’t like it,” Angela said weeks later. Night had fallen and the city lights glowed through her window, not quite like Hanamura, but becoming equally as familiar to him. Her coffee cup sat on her desk, full and untouched. “I don’t like it at all, Genji. It’s…” she trailed off.

“There is nothing we can do unless the Prime Minister says we are permitted to act. The hostages in King’s Row will have to wait.”

“It’s not just that.” She sighed heavily, and slouched down in her chair. Her blue eyes were clouded with worry, a fine line creasing her brow. “We’ve lost so many people lately. The investigations in Japan. The ban on our aid in England. The Cairo incident. All the good we can do is being tarnished, or Overwatch is being linked - even as the victim - in so many negative ways. It’s concerning.” She let her words dwindle away, shoulders dropping again with a sigh.

He rose from his own seat opposite her, and reached into one of her desk drawers. Genji deposited a chocolate bar on her desk, and eyed her wordlessly.

“Really?”

“You’ll feel better,” he pointed out. “You have used that excuse on me a time or two, haven’t you?”

Her lips twitched, a smile she didn’t want to admit trying to force its way onto her face. “Only if you share it with me.”

Genji undid the small catches of his faceplate, revealing the scarred flesh beneath. Her breath caught and he regretted it for a moment, but she opened the wrapper and split the bar in half. He picked up the proffered half delicately with his fingers, eyeing her.

“So you are training Lena now,” Angela said carefully, biting off a corner of her half. “I’ve been watching some of your sessions with her. She’s making quite a bit of progress. What are your thoughts about her - unvarnished?”

Genji half-sat half-leaned against her desk, his eyes on the cityscape, and took a bite of the chocolate as he thought. “She’s fast - obviously - but she’s reckless. She’s too reliant on that chronal accelerator, on her abilities with time skipping, and not enough on her own skills.”

“Is that something you can help her with?”

“I’m the only one who has any hope of it,” he pointed out. “She needs someone with speed, and there really are no other good options.”

“I will tell Jesse you said that,” she chuckled. “When I see him next. He’s off on some… vacation.” Her lips turned down, her mouth puckering into a sour frown. “I think he’s up to something.”

“Once on the wrong side of the law, always on the wrong side?”

“Says the suspended Blackwatch agent.” She smiled, trying to take the sting from her words. “No, he’s probably off at some bar, flirting with the ladies and offering to take them for rides on his bike.” She rolled her eyes. “Or he’s gone for a ride and managed to send himself off a mountainside and we’ll find his body come spring, in some crevasse somewhere.”

“You seem oddly unworried about him.”

“I only worry about a few people. If I worried about everyone, there would be nothing left of me.” She took another bite of the chocolate, humming in pleasure. She glanced back up at him. “So you think there’s hope for Tracer, then?”

“As long as she continues to train, and train hard.” He wondered if she worried about him, found himself hoping that she did. “When she can land a blow on me, or land a shot, I will be more confident. Now, she’s all legs and boundless enthusiasm.”

Angela laughed, and he looked at her indignantly.

“Your face on those last words. I have to wonder if you’ll get a cane next and yell at someone to get off your lawn.” She chuckled, mouth still bowing in a smile, cheeks still plum-round with laughter, and he couldn’t bear to be even a little mad at her. “You say it like it’s a bad thing. Let her have the joy of it, while she still can. Before we sour, old, annoyed folks rub our pessimism and frustration off on her. Before something happens to those legs and she can’t run.”

“I don’t think Lena could be sour if she tried,” he said with exaggerated annoyance, and she snorted. “She is the embodiment of that phrase… carpe diem? Seize the day.”

“She is at that.” Angela finished the last of her chocolate and then wiped her fingers clean with one of the disinfectant wipes she kept in her drawer. A small alert pinged on her computer and she flicked her eyes to the display, and her shoulders fell. He frowned, and reached out a hand to brush against her lab coat.

“What is it?”

“Just more from King’s Row. They’re worried about the hostages. The ill and injured. I wish we could get in there. Just… sneak in, if it came to that. Bring them the aid they need.” Genji watched her chest rise and fall with a heavy sigh, and squeezed her shoulder gently with his cybernetic hand.

“What was it you said? You can’t afford to worry about everyone, or there would be nothing left of you?”

“Mm-hm.”

“We need you - and they will need you, when the time is right. Save your worries.”

She made a rude noise and glared at him.

“A taste of your own medicine, doctor.”

She made another rude noise, but the indignant look, and the tiny smile on her lips, made all of his cool composure vanish. He could feel his own scarred features pulling into a smile, and that made hers come to the fore.

He’d be more than happy to keep annoying her in exchange for that smile.

The next dawn rose and everything fell to pieces. More training with the hideously optimistic Oxton, including her successfully tagging him with her training guns. Angela, watching serenely from on high the entire time - and Morrison showing up halfway through. He didn’t like it, not at all, and his distraction was absolutely what led to Lena’s successful connection with him. He buried his frustration and continued training with her, trying to ignore Morrison and Angela observing like bugs under a microscope. He consoled himself with additional weapons practice, spending another hour with his swords, and only after he had successfully demolished every training robot Athena sent his way, did he allow himself to rest. Penance for his failure.

He cleaned himself up and went on a hunt for Angela. Unable to find her, he rapped on the door of the lab where Winston often worked.

“Have you seen Angela? Dr. Ziegler?”

“Hmm.” The gorilla’s face looked considering, and then turned into a frown. Genji remained uncomfortable around him - a giant sentient ape. He was suited to horror films or classic video games, not a laboratory as a scientist. “She and - wait, should I be telling you this?” Winston paused, seeming to consider his options. “No one said I couldn’t, so I suppose I can. She and Reinhardt and Torbjörn and Lena are all on a mission to London.”

“They sent Dr. Ziegler,” Genji said flatly, “on a mission. To London.”

“They’re taking something Torbjörn made. It sounds like whatever is happening with King’s Row, with the hostages, they’re going to put a stop to it.” Winston shifted back, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a finger.

Worry flared inside Genji, a spark catching quickly. “They sent the pacifist combat medic toa terrorist uprising.” He tried to keep his tone neutral to hide the worry that was quickly turning to anger. He did not like this; he did not worry, and this was a concerning change, as small as it was. So much for the coldhearted logical Shimada ninja.

“She’s the best we have for medical care,” Winston pointed out. His tone sounded like he was agreeing with Genji, when all Genji could do was keep his voice neutral out of shock. “She’ll make sure everyone gets back safely. I’m more worried about Lena, myself. You were training with her earlier, and now all of a sudden - she’s on an active team!” He shook his head. “I sure hope the Strike Commander has this all thought through. I mean, I’m sure he has, but-“

Genji nodded sharply to Winston. “I see. I am sure Lena will - do her best.” He liked the trainee - the cadet - the agent - whatever she was. But she was trained for combat. She’d been training with him. He didn’t worry about Lena at all. He didn’t worry about Reinhardt, or Torbjörn. Angela, he worried about. Combat medic. He snorted as he turned away and left research department, moving deeper into the facility.

He should be there. McCree was suspended, but in London; he should be on that team, guarding their backs. Lena wasn’t ready for something of this magnitude, she wouldn’t be prepared for everything Null Sector would throw at them. He should be there, making sure Lena was fast enough, was ready. He should be there to make sure Angela - Mercy - was all right, that she could help those who needed help instead of worrying about being caught by someone, by something-

His mind was busy, laying out the hundred reasons he should have been headed for London. He stepped into an elevator and met his own eyes in the reflective wall, and stopped short. Of course he couldn’t have gone - and he was an idiot for thinking he could. He was a cyborg. His body was manufactured red and black and grey, with the Blackwatch logo on it. They would have had to airbrush him enroute to make him anything other than a suspended wetwork agent. Damn it, he had cybernetic eyes that glowed _red_. There was no way he could have gone without sending everything to hell. As he mentally lashed himself, he found his feet had led him to the command center. The door sat thick and blue and bland, as nondescript as any of the others this deep into the Overwatch building, except for what lurked behind it.

And it opened for him, which he did not expect. He looked in the small room - Morrison and Reyes, a wall full of displays including the inside of the ORCA, the craft’s trajectory and projected path, FlyCams with McCree on them. No one seemed to blink at his entry, so he settled himself in a corner, dropping into a crouch. Out of sight, out of mind.

He could hear the radio chatter, the casual conversation of the strike team. Reinhardt ribbing Torbjörn and Mercy, Lena clearly unsure if she was allowed to joke or not. He sat, fingers curling and uncurling repetitively, as he listened to the way they moved through the Null Sector omnics. His worry didn’t disappear, even knowing how competent the strike team was, Mercy among them; every time he heard her suck in a breath (he knew that sound), the false gaiety in her voice when she was worried but wouldn’t dare show it, the worry coiled deeper, twisting itself around his spine.

He wanted to be there - he could see everything playing out on the screens, and he hated every minute. There was a point when someone pushed for the payload, and everyone scattered, leaving Angela - leaving _Mercy_ \- alone. He’d never worked with Torbjörn or Reinhardt before, but they had to know her - why were they leaving her alone? Didn’t they understand-

“Don’t worry, Dr. Ziegler,” crackled Tracer’s voice over the comms, “I’ll keep them off you!”

“You’d better. I can’t heal the payload,” Mercy replied, voice tight. “Torbjörn, is this thing ready to move yet?”

“It just needs another moment to warm up!” The Swedish engineer’s voice crackled irritably over the comms. “She’s delicate!”

Reinhardt said something in German that elicited snorts and laughs from several in the room, and Genji wondered what joke he’d missed. He found himself standing with tension, and then sank back down onto the floor, eyes on the screens, listening as Morrison issued orders, watching as hundreds of kilometers away, the team put them into action.

“You wish you were out there, don’t you?” Reyes’ voice was suddenly there beside him. He turned evenly to the Blackwatch Commander.

“I do.”

“If things go south with Blackwatch - and they might - I’ve put in to have you moved to Overwatch.” He pointed to the screens where Reinhardt was behind his shield, protecting the payload, while Mercy used her staff’s energy beam to boost his strength. Nulltroopers and Slicers were encroaching on them, and Tracer was doing her level best to destroy or disable them before they got too close. “They could use a guy like you working with them.”

“It would be a change from the training rooms.”

“Well, after this stunt that Jack’s pulling, this unsanctioned field trip to London, there’s no guarantee there will even be Overwatch in a few months.” Reyes shook his head. “Come get a chair, no use having you sit on the floor like you’re still hiding. Everyone knows you’re here.”

“Was I that obvious?”

“It’s a bit difficult to hide a black and red cyborg ninja in a room this size,” he pointed out, and Genji scoffed, but rose to walk over to the screens. Angela knelt beside a fallen Reinhardt, pressing a hand to his chest.

“You’ll be fine if you stop charging in alone,” her voice came over the comms. “We need your shield.” She helped him rise, and he could see her crouch down, ready to leap towards another teammate. Torbjörn was busy trying to hold off a B73 unit and one of the Eradicators, but clearly needed aid. Genji spread one hand on the edge of the desk, standing next to Captain Amari -

\- just in time to watch from half a dozen angles as one of the OR14-NS units swung its guns to Mercy head-on, and a stream of projectiles shot towards the medic.

Not even Tracer was fast enough to intercept them.

“Did everyone make it?” Angela’s voice was hoarse, cracking as she spoke. Genji almost lurched out of the chair he’d spent the last eight hours in. He reached for her and then pulled back as whip-fast. Her first words, about other people - she had _no_ sense of self preservation.

“We almost lost our doctor,” he said, “through several recklessly determined displays of selflessness that nearly got her killed by Null Sector.”

“Genji?” She blinked, rubbing at her eyes, and winced as pain must have shot through her. “What are you doing here?”

“How many nights did you sit beside my bed in the hospital, monitoring me?” He raised an eyebrow. “Between the threat of Talon and their retribution against us, the fact I am still technically a suspended Blackwatch agent with no home and nowhere to go, and the fact that I require very little sleep…” He reached out again, more slowly the second time, touching the edge of the hospital bed. “You are also my friend, Angela. Where else would I be?”

She gave him a pained smile, and reached slowly for his hand. “I think I must have wrenched some muscles. My ribs are killing me.”

“It is a miracle you are not dead, Angela.” Genji squeezed her fingertips very gently. “You were hit by the full fire of an OR14 in the chest. Your armor absorbed most of the force, but a few projectiles made it through. You are bruised, and a few cracked ribs, but nothing much worse. Apparently your suit’s biotic field healed the worst of it on the way back.”

“Oh, so that worked, then!” She sounded cheerful for a moment, and then coughed, and let out a pained sound.

“Wait do you mean - what worked?”

“The suit, the absorption and the biotic field. We hadn’t field-tested them yet. Only lab testing. It was a project Torbjörn got distracted with, and-“

His fingers tightened around hers. “You are telling me you risked your life in experimental equipment?”

“We didn’t have time for more testing, when Jack said we were moving out.” Her fingers laced with his, squeezed back. “And I’m here, so it worked. No need to worry.”

Genji let out a choked laugh and then shook his head. No need to worry. His heart had been in his mouth the moment Winston had said she was on the mission, and it had only gotten worse. “No need to worry. I think you are hardly the one to give instructions on that.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” She raised an eyebrow, and her other hand grabbed the controls to lift the hospital bed, elevating herself slightly. He gave her an annoyed look, narrowed eyes and a pointed exhalation through his nose, and a tiny smile tugged at her mouth again. “Now you know how I feel every time you run off on your secretive Blackwatch assignments.”

“So this is what it is like, then?” Genji looked at her face, searching for an answer. His chest was finally loosening now that she’d been cleared by the attending, requiring only minimal further observation before being discharged. Something still clutched at his heart and at the deep parts of his brain. He worried about how close she’d come to being lost - how close they’d all come to losing her. How close _he’d_ come. If what she felt was even a fragment of this… she was stronger than she let on, and far stronger than he’d given her credit for.

“I can only tell you that it is for me,” she answered. Angela reached for a mug, and he moved to fill it for her. Water, and lukewarm at that; she eyed it with dismay, but took a sip anyway. “My chest aches, and I sleep poorly, and I worry, and I wish I was there, instead of here.” She took another small sip and shifted the mug in her hands. She looked at Genji, meeting his eyes. “It eats me alive, knowing I would only drag them down if I was there, but wanting so very desperately to be. To keep them safe from violence. Hating that I am not competent enough to do it, and settling for ensuring I keep the people I care about in one piece. Or as much as I can.”

“That mission would not have succeeded without you,” he answered. “As for me… I do not know if I can outrun my fate. Every time I turn, I am confronted with the need to kill, to be an assassin. I was in the command center during that operation, once you all landed on the ground. I have never wanted to be somewhere so badly as when I was watching everything, listening to the comms…” he trailed off, realizing one of his hands had formed itself into a fist.

“So you do know,” she said, a little lightly. “I would have felt better knowing you have my back. You are a hundred places all at once. It’s rather frightening, if I can be honest.”

“Always honesty with me,” he said, his eyes holding hers. “But I have some good news, I think.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Strike Commander Morrison told me that I am being moved to Overwatch. Reyes warned me he had put in for the transfer, but Morrison confirmed it a few hours ago. I will be training Tracer, and working with the rest of the organization as a member of Overwatch. Blackwatch is done, but I am not.”

“Genji!” Her voice caught, and she smiled. The full force of it, directed entirely at him, was staggering. “That is excellent news! Will you be here in Switzerland full-time, then?”

“It sounds like it.” He watched her face like a hawk, alert for the finer nuances of her expression. He hadn’t thought she could smile wider, but she did. “When you feel better, do you think we could discuss some of those cybernetic improvements you showed me forever ago? I feel like I am in need of a… different look. I find am no longer as fond of black and red as I once was.”

“Go into my office and get my tablet,” she instructed proprietarily, “and I will show you the latest design iterations the cyberneticists and I have been thinking about, and we can discuss progression. It will not be quick, or easy, or pleasant, but… I think you will feel better when we are done.”

“You are supposed to be resting, Angela,” he reminded her. “There is time to discuss those changes when you feel better.” She held her mug out towards him, and he could finally read the words on it - “WORLD’S WORST PATIENT”.

“I can always go get it myself, if you’d like…”

“I will be back in five minutes. Do not move.”

She rolled her eyes, but made no move to get out of the hospital bed, and he darted off. Everything was as it always was, and when he returned, the mug had been set aside and she had fallen asleep again.

He had never been good at waiting, but for Angela, he would learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You people realize when you leave me nice comments, all I want to do is *write more just for you*, right!? Thank you lovely creatures all for your kudos and comments, they really make my day every time I see them. <3


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